Sinister Cabaret
by Hitsugi Zirkus
Summary: As one who works in a cabaret, there are only two things Jack knows how to do: sell his body and lie. However, one day he's taken into custody...where King Glen Baskerville hires him as a thief to steal the fabled Pandora's Box! Curses, a parallel world, and love weren't a part of the deal as Jack could recall. Oswald/Jack ManyOthers! Bday fic for Haunani!
1. Prelude in Presto

**A/N: **Hullo! I am Hitsugi Zirkus and I'm afraid I don't have a lot of time to explain myself (darn these public terminals...). Well, would you look at that, I'm making another Pandora Hearts series 8D Clockwork Circus is almost done, so I figure, why not? This has been buzzing in my skull since my orchestra class played a song called Dance of Iscariot. Do give it a listen. It's also what Lacie is humming later in the chapter :)

This is a **birthday fic** for my good friend, **Haunani**. She's such a dear and it's so much fun talking to her. I'm so glad I met you, dearie~ I want to fling endless praise and love and cookies at you~~ -insert many hearts- Happy early birthday :3

**Sinister Cabaret**

_**Prelude in Presto**_

Tea stains had the tendency in smelling weird when they were left alone to soak into a rug, but with just a glance at his younger sister, he knew that this was not a concern of hers. With a sigh, he rose from his chair, grabbing a napkin to dab at the spill, as he'd seen maids do in the past. The only reason he was doing himself now was because it was only himself and his sister in the parlor they hadn't known existed below the castle.

"If you're not going to take your afternoon tea, then why don't you stop spilling it everywhere?" he asked his sister, chastising her patiently. He said this already knowing her answer.

Her eyes, large and a perfect ruby color, bore onto him. He once heard that rubies didn't change their color no matter what light shone on them; their red hue would only become more brilliant. It was an unchanging gem that had no qualms with bending others and asserting itself. To be honest, he thought the color of his sister's eyes only fitting because of this. Princess Lacie Annabelle Marie Baskerville may have been seven years of age, but it never stopped her from developing the strong personality she had.

"If I use up all the tea in the pot, the maids will have to come if I ask for more," she reasoned simply, slouching over the table with its lacy tablecloth. She must have known that he'd get upset about her improper posture, because even though he was glaring she was smiling.

He huffed out a breath and stood up once he had cleaned his sister's mess away. He was just about to return to his own cup of tea when he heard a small clink and looked up to see Lacie grinning. Following the trail of light-yellow, he saw that she had knocked over another cup.

"Lacie, stop that," he groaned, bending down to clean up the spill again. "Why do you keep doing that? Drinking the tea would work, too, you know!"

Her small legs rocked back and forth beneath the tablecloth. "I'm waiting to see when you'll do a cleaning spell or something," she admitted, her tone excited. "I never get to see Brother do magick unless he's in lessons. And sometimes your tutor won't allow me in the room."

Gradually, his scowl went away. He knew younger siblings had a tendency to act innocent, but he wasn't fooled by such things. Nevertheless, he knew his sister's reason to be sincere and he sighed, smiling. "I don't know anything like that, Lacie," he told her, dabbing away until the rug was only slightly wet.

"Brother, I'm bored, though!" whined Lacie, wringing her dress that was varying shades of red. "We've been down here for hours. Maybe even a day!"

"Come, it hasn't been that long," he said with a shake of his head. Although it had been quite some time since their head butler and maid took them down the stone steps and placed them into the well-accommodated room. He recalled how peculiar their expressions were – although they were smiling and saying reassuring things to the two royal siblings, he couldn't shake off the feeling that their cheeriness was a mask to hide something.

"You'll be here for awhile," their maid had told them gently, ruffling the dark hair on each of their heads. Then, quietly and calmly, she explained, "Your parents – Your Majesties have reasons to believe some…bad people might come. And they requested we keep you safe."

The notion of "bad people" wasn't a foreign one for him. He recalled that his father once told him that when Lacie was born, someone attempted to assassinate his mother and take his newborn sister away. Of course, the operation had failed, and since then life had been relatively quiet. Never did he think such a thing would happen again, but to be honest, he wasn't all that worried.

For one, if there was one failed attempt, then what would stop it from failing a second time? Second, everyone knew that the Baskervilles were a royal family very well practiced in magick. Granted, he had never seen his parents use attack magick in earnest – since he never had the cause to – but that didn't mean the power wasn't obvious. Anyone who thought they could pull something over his family was very mistaken in this notion.

And so they waited in this secret room. No one came to check on them, but he still wasn't worried – at least, not for himself.

Every so often he'd warm up a new pot of tea with a simple fire spell his tutor taught him or go over and pull out a few volumes from the shelf only to not know any of the words. His purple eyes glanced over at the pure-white upright piano leaning against the wall more than once. He had never touched the instrument before, but had seen his father tinker with it and was always entranced by the enchanting music pouring from it.

Probably noticing his interest, Lacie piped up, "Go play on the piano. I want to hear a song."

Startled, he looked at her dumbly. "What? I've never played that before."

"Father does," Lacie pointed out, reaching out for the pot of tea.

Quickly, he sat up and took the sleek pot out of her reach before more of her antics continued. Although he hated to admit it, he was getting pretty curious himself, and he felt his cheeks grow warm with an embarrassed blush. "I don't know any songs," he told her.

When he took the tea away from her she pouted, but at his declaration, she smiled. "Can you write songs?"

"Well, no," he relented, sinking into his chair. "But maybe I can play something by just listening to it. Father can do that." Lacie's clap of approval was all he needed to prompt him to the piano. He turned back to see his sister sitting expectantly, her back straight and lips clamped together in forced silence.

A clear sound rang in the room when he pushed down on one of the milky-white keys. He couldn't tell if it was in tune or not, but it didn't _sound_ wrong…

"Well?" he prompted, tilting her head at her.

"Well what?"

He scowled lightly at her. "Sing a song or something, and I'll try to imitate it on the piano."

Now it was Lacie's turn to tilt her head in question. "What does imitate mean?" she asked, blinking her red eyes in confusion.

Patiently, he explained, "It means trying to copy something. Lacie, do you want me to play or not?" he said, trying to get the conversation back on track.

She eagerly nodded, sliding out of her chair and going over to sit next to him on the bench. She wiggled about as she tried to think, making him grow slightly impatient, but then she gasped in clarity. "I've got it. I made it up, so you can't say it was you, okay, Brother?"

He couldn't help but smile at her insistence. "That's why I'm imitating it. Alright, you can start when you want," he said, poising his fingers over the keys as he had seen his father do countless times. He even remembered to keep his back straight as he waited for his sister to sing.

Most everyone in the castle knew of the beautiful singing voice Lacie had. She wasn't good in recognizing notes if her music lessons were any indication, but she was surprisingly good at coming up with something out of nowhere. He never said it out loud how much he admired her – not because he was jealous, but merely because he couldn't express his emotions well. The fact that he wanted to play her song as the first he'd play on a piano spoke for itself, and he hoped Lacie knew that.

Closing her eyes, Lacie sang. It had no words, so she was merely vocalizing, but he sensed un underlying emotion embedded deep within it, waiting to be born. Her voice unexpectedly took to a crescendo, a fast pace and dramatic tone. Dramatic and somehow…powerfully ominous. Without realizing it, his eyes were transfixed only on her and a smile was on his face, his palms now flat on the piano's glossy keys.

When her short tune repeated itself, she admitted, "That's as far as I got."

"I'm surprised you remember that much without writing down any notes," he said breathlessly. He ruffled her hair. "I wonder if your magick gift is with music. A Music Worker," he said, remembering what his tutor referred to as the title a practitioner of magick was given when they found their gift. Only one person was given a single title at a time, because only one person had a particular gift in a lifetime. It was complicated explanation that he had yet to memorize in his head, but since he didn't have a clue what his gift was, he didn't think much about it.

Lacie's gaze met his. "So will you play it for me?"

"I think I got it…," he tried to reassure himself. He remembered how it was her song went, and so he positioned his fingers again, listening in his mind how the notes would be translated on the piano.

Only a single note fell when a loud crash rattled the entire room. Books fell from the shelf and the tea cups clinked on the plates, tea sloshing onto the cloth. Lacie trembled and tumbled onto him, and he held her tightly, looking up.

"Brother, what is that?" he heard her ask, but only barely as every noise sounded muffled in his ears. He held Lacie. Something was wrong in the castle. He couldn't remember his father saying something like this happened last time. The small hairs on his arms stood on end, and it was as if a faint sensation were humming all over his body, like static. He was startled to realize that meant he was sensing someone using magick.

He shot up and grabbed Lacie's wrist tightly, dashing them over to the tea table as quickly as he could as the room continued to shake and rumble like an earthquake. Lacie stumbled more than once, but he scooped her back up and then picked up the cloth over the table, shoving the two of them under it. With no windows or light save for the simple chandelier above them, the underside of the table was like a dry cave sheltering them. And shelter was what was most important right now. And protection.

Letting go of his sister, he racked his mind for any defensive spells his tutor had taught him. Since he was still a beginner and had yet to know his gift, his spell-weaving involved a lot of murmuring and drawing symbols in the air that glowed a faint yellow color. All the while he kept thinking desperately, _Please, please keep us safe. Please let Mother and Father be okay_…

Lacie was gripping his lacy cuff tightly. "We'll be okay, right?" she asked in a steady voice, but there was no denying the trouble in her eyes. "Or…are we going to die?"

He rushed through his last spell before turning to her. "Don't say that. We're fine."

"But if Mama and Papa can't even stop the bad people, how can you when you're not-?" She stopped talking when he clamped a hand over her mouth to keep the truth from leaving her. At the same time, the rumbling also came to a lull until the room settled to a shudder, then froze completely. A numbing silence met them, filled with his rapidly beating heart and Lacie's breath on his palm.

For a few seconds, he didn't dare move, and thankfully neither did his sister. He thought about relaxing when a woman's shill voice screamed, "NOOOOO!"

He jumped and Lacie's eyes began to glass over, making him bite the inside of his cheek. He was hoping she wouldn't recognize their mother's voice in such a state.

There was a sound like someone choking on water and a thud heavy on the wall nearest them. Slowly, he pressed a finger to his lips and then let go of Lacie's mouth. He lifted up the table cloth a few inches to peer outside. His purple eyes barely fell on the red spilling into the room through the door when it splintered apart with a great crash, small bits of brick from the doorframe crumbling with a bang. He recoiled immediately, grabbing Lacie again and holding her close.

Trying to steady his breathing proved to be a near impossible task, but he tried to keep himself as calm as a nine-year-old could be in this situation, especially given he didn't want to scare his sister. He glanced down at her to see her wide eyes search him for answers. He only squeezed her hand in return, not even having the strength to fake a smile.

Something else was in the room now. He could just feel it in how heavy the air suddenly seemed to get. There was still the static electricity feeling, only now it seemed to be dancing freely through the space in the room, cackling with energy he couldn't even begin to fathom. It set his senses and mind on edge, and he didn't even dare to draw a breath into his small chest.

Dead. His parents had to be dead. Otherwise someone would come for them right now.

Then he saw it – blackness stretching out from under the cloth and wrapping itself around them. Its shapeless and ink-colored form reminded him of the tea that Lacie had continually spilled.

He was too late to cover up Lacie's mouth when she wailed. She quickly clamped her lips closed, but realized her mistake too late.

The shadow-stain made a terrible shuddering gesture, and he heard something that sounded like a smirk. The stain lunged for them, but just when he thought he had to cause to fear it, it took a tangible characteristic by forming a clawed hand that grabbed Lacie's ankle and dragged her from beneath the table. Both siblings screamed. He scrambled for his sister's outstretched hand, but only fumbled with the tablecloth, spilling china and liquid everywhere with a crash.

"Lacie!" he called, tearing away from the floor. Every spell he knew seemed to disappear from his mind, leaving a painful void – which may have been just as well: "_If Mama and Papa can't even stop the bad people, how can you…?_"

The screech of his little sister's terror brought him back to reality, and he focused his gaze on her – she, who was cradled in the personification of shadow and everything abysmal. The glass-orb eyes stared at him through the darkness, the blackness making their color a dull gray like a peering monster.

And yet…and yet all he could do was remain terribly frozen when, before she disappeared in the shadow's arms, Lacie screamed, "_**Help me, Oswald**_!"

* * *

Once, a twin boy and girl worked to make the world from their gifts within a box. When they opened it against the "Abyss'" warning, it is said that all the chaos within the Abyss' heart was released upon the world. Fearing the punishment that would be bestowed upon them for disobeying the Abyss, the twins escaped from their bodies, their souls living on in the flesh of mortals for centuries and centuries.

Nevertheless, the Abyss continues to search for the twins – the ones who opened Pandora's Box.

* * *

**Ending A/N: **I told myself I wouldn't use "Oswald"... so many apolgies! :'D -waits for flames-

Sorry Jack wasn't in this chapter, Haunani-chan, but he will next chapter, I promise~ :3 I started DW, by the way owo

So...I hope this worked out well so far. Please drop a review with your thoughts 8'D


	2. The Bittersweet Constrain

**A/N: **And so the first chapter finally presents itself! –waves- I'm sorry it took so long, but you guys know how it is. But it is now summer, which hopefully means more updates before college drags be away forever in August –sweatdrops-

Awkward thing about this chapter. I wrote the last half of it in a very important test I was taking in May. It was during the short-answer portion ('cos I had no damn idea what to do) and when time was called, they take your booklets away. So…I have turned in a test…with fanfiction written on it… Frack. Well, at least it was the stalker scene and not the sex scene. Then I'd probably die :'D

But enjoy –bows-

_**1st Arrangement: The Bittersweet Constrain**_

"Incuse" was the name of the only cabaret in Sablier. At first, he hadn't known what this meant. The first time he saw the cabaret was when he was about eleven years of age and he had taken a walk with his then-alive mother. Snow had fallen down in thin flakes, resting in his halo of blond hair as he brought his scarf further up his cold nose. As they waited for a carriage to cross the road, his gaze strayed to the building in front of them. Laughing men and women dressed in low-cut clothes disappeared inside. He wondered why the women weren't cold, or why the inside of the place looked hazy with smoke.

He found the cracked sign above the entrance door with the building's name. "What does 'incuse' mean?" he asked, looking up into his mother's verdant eyes so like his own, but only in color. For all his life, his mother's eyes held a sort of dull glaze that made her seem tired and sick.

Slowly, she glanced down at him. "Where did you hear that?" she asked, her voice like worn silk.

"That building there."

Without even looking at the place, she took his hand and they crossed the now safe road. "It means to inscribe something. Sort of like stamping. It makes a mark," she explained in terse sentences. It was as if she thought she was finished with her sentence, but then she'd remember something else to add.

When they were on the other side, his mother pulled him away from the building called Incuse. It was a quick motion that almost made him stumble against her pregnant stomach. He silently apologized to his future sibling inside.

"And that's a cabaret," she continued in her same monotonous tone.

Resting both of his hands with hers, he asked, "And what's that?" He wanted to know. What he hated most in the world was ignorance. Not knowing.

His mother's breath left in a pearly mist as she answered him.

Would his life been different had he not known?

* * *

As amusing as it was to have someone talk about him like he wasn't aware of it, Jack was beginning to get bored. He had already shooed away two customers, using the excuse that he had to get ready for an upcoming appointment – though now he was starting to think said "appointment" was never going to happen. He had been watching them for awhile now, and his interest, although waning, was focused solely on a single man in the group. In the long run, this would only be a small loss considering Jack was one of the most requested prostitutes in the cabaret, receiving around six customers a day.

Of course, among the experienced were the virgins. Seeing one inside wasn't uncommon, but only experienced whores like Jack could spot them on sight. Virgins were the ones whose gazes lingered a little longer, whose expression clearly showed unbridled desire; the ones excited with just a smile.

In the beginning, Jack resented the lot of them. Who chose to give up their virginity to a stranger, one who had shared their bed with many? Was it not proper to give it to someone you loved?

_As if I can even talk_. And so the world continued going on about its business. At this point in his life, there was little Jack could judge about the world or the people in it – even the ones who sought pleasure as they hung in the dark corners of Incuse bar.

Like the man he was watching now. It was a sandy-haired man of about twenty who kept sneaking glances up at Jack as his surrounding friends egged him on with nudges and laughs. When the man shook off his friends off and cast another look at Jack, the blond gave him an inviting smile, twirling a strand of his golden hair around one slender finger. The embarrassment on the virgin's face was cute, and almost made the foreplay worth it.

Tarnished red momentarily entered his field of vision, interrupting the haze of smoke from pipes puffing in the room as a woman stepped in front of him. "Jack, Jack, Jack," she tutted with her crimson lips. "You've got the sort of patience that I envy."

"You'd never guess that you've been in this business longer than I have, Miranda," Jack returned, not waning his smile. In fact, he decided to use this appearance as an opportunity and reached out to trace her delicate collarbone, dipping lower to her bosom. As he expected, a flash of annoyance crossed the virgin's face from across the room. "Though I admit, it's hard to get some of the kiddies into the play area."

Not paying his ministrations any attention, Miranda raised a brow and glanced at the clock on the wall behind Jack. "Better hurry and get your fix, is my advice to you," she said, not even blinking as he slipped his hand into her dress and cupped one of her breasts. "The cabaret will close soon, and you know how the old man is."

"He gets five silver pieces of our pay, I say if I'm going to do that, might as well enjoy myself longer. And don't talk to me like I'm a drug addict," Jack said with mock anguish. His actions upon the red-haired woman had caught the attention of more than one customer, but he only pulled her closer, kneading her soft breast.

Marie, another sister of the trade, came up to them then, her wavy chestnut hair falling over her shoulder as she leaned to speak in their faces. "None of that. If you're going to make the beast with two backs, do it in the rooms. With a _client_," she added with emphasis.

"Jack needs assistance coaxing out a virgin. I'm merely helping," Miranda explained simply.

Also unfazed by the warning, Jack used his other hand to brush down the brunette's bare arm. "Aah, Marie, have you come to help me as well~?" he lilted.

Marie back out of his reach. "Well, please do get on with it," she snapped with narrowed eyes. She might have been making a scowl, but with her doll-like face it only appeared to be a pout. Satisfied with her warning, she stalked off in the other direction.

Miranda's black-gloved hand reached out to cup Jacks' face at the same time he slipped his hand out of her dress. "My little Jack, you're a regular prostitute in a cabaret house. Sex _is_ your drug, and if I'm not mistaken," she leaned forward to kiss his nose, "it's time for your eleven o'clock fix."

"Worry not," lilted Jack. "I'm used to working overtime."

The entrance to Incuse opened, revealing a slightly disheveled man that was the last person Jack wanted to see. He had reddish-brown hair slightly akin to Miranda's and always wore a dark-green outfit whenever he visited. And he'd been stalking Jack for a month now, always requesting the blond and coming even when the cabaret was closed or Jack had another client.

Instead of making a big fuss about it, however, Jack patted Miranda on the shoulder. "Ta~," he sang as he quickly turned away from the entrance.

As calmly as possible, he weaved through other men and women in the cabaret to where the sandy-haired virgin was at a dark corner of the bar with his friends. With practiced ease, he slid himself on the man's lap, tossing his long braid over his shoulder. The virgin jumped and went red and, when they were over the shock, his companions began hooting and whistling.

"How many drinks until you'll come up to me?" Jack asked. He made sure to keep his voice between a lilt and a low purr – he wasn't sure if his customer was more into a submissive man or not. Luckily, Jack was skilled enough to pull off innocence, dominance, or both at the same time.

The virgin stumbled over his words. "I-I, um… Look, I wasn't…," he began to mumble.

Jack's stalker was scanning the room, looking for him. Wasting no time, Jack rubbed his cheek against his customer's, murmuring seductively, "I could just as easily get you drunk on _something else_." He danced his fingers over a broad chest, rubbing in circles as he lightly kissed the man on the lips, flicking out his tongue. Alcohol burned his wet muscle, but he ignored it. It was just something he got used to. There were many things associated with a prostitute, and one of them was the taste of alcohol, of addiction. The object of the game was to be the addiction, though, not the addicted. But Jack knew this. It was second nature by now.

"Come to a room with me?" he offered, getting off the lap and walking to a dark staircase right next to the bar. He smiled in pleasure when the virgin hastily followed, and the two slipped out of sight. The man's companions continued their banter until they couldn't hear them anymore.

The narrow staircase led to an equally narrow hallway darkened by closed doors, five on each side with one at the end – but no one went there since that's where the old man was; only his favorites like Marie or Jack. The only sources of light were three lanterns with green and purple glass hanging from the ceiling. All the doors had red ribbons dangling from the small bronze knockers, but only the ones that were occupied had the ribbons tied in a bow. Jack led them into the first unoccupied room, already used to the gasps and moans coming from the other inhabitants.

The inside of each room was fairly the same – a bed, some canopied like this one, candelabras on the walls, and a widow. Some had doors leading to the next room, and others had a small bathroom (this one didn't, but there had been times when Jack serviced a client in the middle of a bath).

Tying the ribbon before closing the door, Jack stated, "So you're new, but how this works is fairly simple. I'll do whatever you'd like me to, but of course payment is expected at the end. You know of this?"

"Ah, yeah," mumbled the virgin as he nodded. He fumbled, reaching into his pocket and putting a handful of coins on the nightstand.

Jack smiled as he slowly began unbuttoning his shirt. How cute. He could just take the money and leave. But when it came to expected pleasure, all lines of logic and common sense blurred. Jack had witnessed it many times. "May I ask your name?" Although really, what did that matter?

The sandy-haired man looked at him with startled blue eyes. Oh, how Jack loved how ignorant some of the virgins could be. They made him feel even dirtier than he was. He decided that he'd likely get more of a reaction if he acted more submissive. After leaving his shirt on the floor, he went to the candelabras and began lighting them with the matches in his pocket.

"Well, I need something to scream out, now don't I? Although I'll call you whatever you'd like." He said this last bit blowing out the match and glancing up sultrily.

The virgin returned the look, blushing again as he also began undressing.

Satisfied and not at all minding no answer to his question, Jack made the next move, closing the distance and kissing the man on the mouth, stubble scratching against his skin like sandpaper. The response was automatic, though it always was – Jack was good at his job, and getting things rolling was something he could do in bed. Literally.

Jack pressed against the naked body in front of him, rolling his tongue and traveling his hands over skin sensually. At least his client was a good kisser.

The blond couldn't have made any noise louder than a soft moan the entire time, even as movements became more heated when he was pressed down on the bed. Of course, he never really did respond much unless he got a particularly talented client, but this was something no one he laid with ever noticed. All that mattered was pleasure. All Jack was in here was a warm body. He could be anyone (well, not _anyone_, but being the one of the most requested prostitutes in a cabaret was nothing to be proud of).

But the dirty feelings had stopped years ago. If he were still the same person as when he first started, the teeth at his neck would make him cringe; the throbbing cock in his hands would repulse him. No, but Jack was experienced now. That was too clear when he let the sandy-haired man come inside him – twice and without stopping. Years ago, Jack would've begged for him to stop.

But it was like Miranda used to tell him, he reminded himself as hands fondled his chest. "_There are worst jobs, you know. You learn fast in this business. It gets routine-like after awhile. You learn to just take it and stare at the ceiling, the pillow, at the shadowed face – whatever position you happened to be in. The craft lies more in losing your sense of self form your body. Your body doesn't belong to you anymore, ever since _that_ was put on your body_."

"What's the tattoo?" was the question breathed on Jack's lips, followed by a particularly harsh thrust. Jack inhaled sharply, embracing the burning pain. No lubricant of any sort – he'd be sore after this. So would the no-longer virgin, but it wasn't Jack's job to worry or care about that.

But…everyone knew about the tattoo on his pelvis, so they never asked about it. This man had to be newer to the scene than he thought. Hadn't anyone ever told him?" Rocking in tandem with the thrusts, Jack touched the ink in between his hips. "It's the…mark of a prostitute," he panted faintly. "We all have them, love."

"Not that," his customer said in an unbridled growl of pleasure. "I know that. _God_! I mean the one on your thigh here!" He moved his hands to pry Jack's thighs apart. Jack shifted to hold his legs open, spreading his cheeks wider. Barely visible in the candlelight was black ink that was stained on the inside of his inner right thigh.

Ah, so that's what he was talking about. Jack actually didn't know about how he got that one, but he had noticed it when he got the prostitute's mark years ago. He'd blacked out after he had gotten the ink on his pelvis, so maybe they had given him another one for the hell of it?

Jack moved his hips, breath coming out in hot pants as perspiration began to bead his skin. "Nothing," he gasped, tensing his muscles around the man's cock and earning a pleasured curse.

The tattoo itself was a fascinating thing with a design Jack hadn't ever seen before: a circle with diamond segments all around; curved arches, thick and black and sharp, within the circle. It was actually quite noticeable when he was unclothed, as it was the size of his palm – and yet no one commented on it, save maybe for one or two other customers. But that wasn't a considerable number given he laid with almost thirty a week. Who cared what happened to a whore's body? His body no longer belonged to him, right?

And yet…

The man's breath hitched and he gripped Jack's hips tightly, adding to the bruises already there. Even this man marked him. A normal person wouldn't be able to see it – all the times he'd been marked. But all over Jack's skin were the countless invisible tattoos of hundreds of touches.

They may have been invisible and gone, but to Jack it didn't erase the fact that his body was covered with _their_ brands, _their_ marks. _Their_ incuses.

But that's the kind of people the ones in his line of work were – a person to be incused.

* * *

The session ended up going overtime, and by the time the man left the room, the cabaret was early empty. Gradually the noises of pleasure from the other rooms dwindled until there was a sort of silence. Jack continued to sit in the bed, blanket tossed over his lap and hair mostly undone from his braid. His pay was still settled on the nightstand and Jack reached out to count the coins. Good, if he added this to his savings, he'd just be able to afford Oz's medicine this month.

Relieved, Jack sat back against the pillows and let out a breath. The candles that were close to burning out led him to wonder if he should ask Miranda for some midnight oil later. He actually hated the stuff, hated the taste and smell and how clogged it made his insides, but it made him fall asleep peacefully – that was enough. Luckily, the drug was rare enough that Jack never took enough to be addicted to it. And even though Jack wanted it just to fall asleep at night, it cost and arm and a leg to get it, even with Miranda's connections with the foreign country it came from.

_Needs, wants, desires, essentials, obligations_. He literally couldn't afford the midnight oil, Oz's medicine, pay the old man _and_ provide for his two siblings. Jack rubbed his temples, letting out a deep, tired breath. Fine, he wouldn't get the drug. He was used to sleepless nights, anyway.

Eventually, Jack got up and began to get dressed again. The soiled blankets and sheets would be attended to later by some of the newer members of the cabaret. Sometimes Jack felt bad that they had to do tedious manual labor by keeping Incuse presentable, but someone had to do it. Besides, he had done his fair share of cleaning messes and washing sheets back in his first year. After two years working in Incuse, one was considered an official "member" and was given the tattoo on the pelvis – _the part of our body where supposedly sexual energies spike_.

After fighting with the tangles in his hair for a few minutes, Jack decided just to unbraid the blond locks from their plait. His hair fell down his back in messy waves as he pocketed his hair-tie away, also adding the new pay to his coin bag attached to his hip. He blew out each candle that still burned and closed the door, untying the red ribbon with mechanical movements. The routine was automatic by now. The ribbons from all the other rooms were untied, which came as no surprise.

When he came down the stairs, he found only one other person – a young boy around the age of seventeen with somewhat long, brown hair and good cheekbones. He was obviously still a new member with the wet rag in his hands that he used to clean the bar counter. They exchanged only a brief glance before Jack walked past him and out the door.

Although they had the same frowned-upon job and dealt with the same kind of people, Jack forged friendships with no one but Miranda. True, he'd offer a smile, maybe even toss out random advice to the novices, but that was the sum of it. Incuse wasn't meant for friendship – there was no time for that anyway when there were customers to attend to.

Jack buttoned up most of his shirt, still feeling sweaty and dirty from the earlier session. As the summer breeze blew, the end of his shirt billowed, exposing the tip of prostitute's tattoo for all to see should they look. It was shameful, but the mark did have some perks. For instance, no guard on duty would question his actions so late at night, given they were of the provocative nature.

Hands in his pockets, Jack began the walk back to his home, which was at a small village not far from here, which was located near the edge of Sablier.

Chances were that his siblings were asleep right now – or so was what he hoped. Lately Oz seemed to be brooding over something – and although Jack had yet to ask him what it was exactly, he had a pretty good idea. Ever since their mother died giving birth to his little sister, Ada, Jack had been the sole provider of the family.

Becoming a prostitute hadn't exactly been an accident, though.

In any case, now that Oz was fifteen, it should only follow that he should help out with supporting the three of them. He did an odd job here and there, got a bronze coin or three, but with his sickness, he wasn't much use to do anything. More than once, Jack told him to take it easy with trying to do so much work – not to mention they would have to pay the woman who took care of seven-year-old Ada in the meantime.

It would probably make sense for Jack to turn to their father for a time like this – except the blond had no idea who that was, exactly. He didn't know who Oz and Ada's father was, either, but he assumed it must've been the same man, given the same features they had with the golden hair, verdant eyes, and light freckles on their faces. It wouldn't be an illogical thing to conclude. The nonsense came when Jack would suddenly find out his mother was pregnant.

As it was, with a mysterious father that could be any deadbeat in the world, a deceased mother, and two young siblings, hardships were always present. Being a prostitute was the easy way out, and who could judge him for it? It worked, it paid quickly, so therefore a good enough system.

Sometimes though, Jack worried Oz and Ada might think this kind of job was okay. And maybe he was a hypocrite for thinking this, but such a job was the last thing Jack wanted. There were worse ways to get paid, but that didn't mean selling one's body was any more ideal.

A scuff of someone's shoe hitting the dirt road woke Jack up from his musings. Hardly anyone was out at this time of night, and if they were, their footsteps surely weren't…so careful. Tension seized the blond, but he tried to appear as casual as possible. A face appeared in his mind, but he couldn't be sure just yet.

The corner that he was to turn on showed up and as he rounded it, he glanced sideways to see if the person's face would reveal itself from the darkness.

"Jack."

Fear gripped the blond's chest. It was his stalker, after all. _Damn, this can't be happening_, he thought in a panic. This time, he hurried his pace. Once he was out of sight, he broke into a run, hair flying behind him.

Then he realized his stalker was running as well, calling out his name in almost a sing-song voice. _What a damn sicko_. Jack ran down the deserted street, past lit lanterns hung outside some shops until he came to a grittier path filled with rocks. He slipped once, cursing in a low voice but quickly getting up just before his stalker could stop him. Still, the voice and footsteps were coming closer, sending his thoughts on edge.

"Leave me alone!" he whispered desperately, closing his eyes.

Only once had the man laid his hands on Jack, and that had truly been one of the worst experiences of his life. And while it was true he hadn't hurt him (in any way that wasn't peculiar to a whore), the blond was apprehensive. Something about his stalker wasn't right and he didn't want to fall into his hands again to find out what. Those beastly and hungry eyes coupled with a wide smile calling his name made Jack want to hide every time.

Thinking of his feet, Jack rounded another corner, slamming himself flat on the brick wall and willing himself to blend in with the shadows. It was hard to steady his breathing and his hand gripped the clothing over his chest as if that would soothe his burning lungs.

He heard the unmistakable approach of his stalker's hurried footsteps. They came and then left, rushing past him. Once, maybe twice, he could hear his name now being growled impatiently until the voice and footfalls could no longer be heard. Jack let out a shuddering breath of relief, crumpling to the ground.

When he got enough of his bearings, he realized he was in a walled-off alleyway that stretched only about twenty or so feet, and it was partially illuminated by the full moon above. Nothing else was in the closed path except… Jack's eyes adjusted more to the darkness and – yes, he recognized a human form leaning against the wall.

Taking one last deep breath, he got up on shaking legs and moved towards the person. He didn't know what was making him do it, but later on he'd think of it as a stroke of unfortunate events.

Most of the body was obscured in semi-darkness, but the form was clearly male – he looked middle-aged with balding wavy hair and some bulk to his build. He was wearing a black cloak with the hood half-drawn up his head. When he got closer, the blond saw that the man wasn't moving – nor did he appear to be alive. Jack kept waiting to hear heavy breathing, but received nothing. Warily, he reached out to shake the man's shoulder, about to call out to him when he noticed the dark, caked liquid staining the man's neck.

A gasp left Jack as he stumbled backward and removed his hand from the _corpse_, eyes wide as his heart hammered in his chest. His verdant eyes searched for signs of the man's killer. Who knew whether or not he was still around? Sweat ran down the side of Jack's face and he flinched violently – had he already been killed?

He wrapped his arms around himself. "I'm being ridiculous," he scolded himself, shaking his head. But speaking realistically, he should tell someone about this – report it to a guard on duty, right? But Jack wasn't sure about that. A normal denizen of the kingdom was one thing, but a prostitute was another. Even if Jack worked in a cabaret and wasn't merely roaming the streets as other people in the business did, his line of work wasn't exactly respected. And whores killing their clients for a chance to steal extra money weren't unheard of.

With that thought, Jack gathered himself and began searching the man's pockets. The issue of morality wouldn't reach him, because he had pilfered before. It came with the territory of his type of hard life. Still, he couldn't look away from the man's closed eyes as he patted through pockets and clothing for something to steal. It seemed as if at any moment the man would regain life and open his eyes, demanding to know who Jack was and what he was doing. But that was also ridiculous.

_After all, a corpse won't miss its possessions_. Besides, if he was lucky, maybe he'd find enough money to get some midnight oil after all.

At first it seemed like all the dead man had were weapons. There were gun holsters at his thighs and a knife at his boot. A pouch tethered to his hip only revealed rather strange-looking weapons and a jar of powder he wasn't familiar with. Jack sighed, beginning to pull back when something glinting in the moonlight caught his attention. He glanced down, suddenly spotting a sort of pendant resting on the man's chest. It was attached to a thin chain, so Jack realized it to be a necklace.

The pendant was a strange design he had never seen before, but if he had to guess, he figured it to look like a flower encased in a square, spikes at each corner. He wondered what kind of symbol it could be. _It looks valuable_. Quickly, Jack reached out and yanked on the pendant, surprised when it came off the dead man's neck with a soft snap.

Then, looking regretfully down at the corpse, Jack turned away and ran out of the alleyway, tucking the necklace in his pocket.

* * *

**Ending A/N**: And it is complete! Finally –sighs happily- Oh, and just to get something straight now, "midnight oil" refers to one of the slang terms of opium. I am not referring to the band which my friend seems to listen to (I never heard of them o_o;) –blows raspberry- I thought to include this other scene, but I think it'll be better for another chapter :B

So I really hope you enjoyed –shuffles nervously- And I don't think I mentioned it yet, but the title for this chapter is an album by dark cabaret artist Jill Tracy. She is truly wonderful and I adore her seductive voice~ I'm considering putting a dark cabaret song for each chapter title, since I know a few artists, and it goes with the theme of the story's title, no?

Please review/comment/ask question/critique! –bows-


	3. The Headless Waltz

**A/N: **I'm sorry this is so late! I actually can't say much since I have only a short amount of time here. This chapter was fun to write, for a variety of reasons. Do tell me if Oz seems OOC. It's just that too this day I feel as though I'm not capturing his character correctly -sighs-

The title of this chapter is a song by Voltaire who is, you guessed it, a dark cabaret singer. It's also the name of the song that is sung later on :) Please enjoy, all of you -bows-

_**2nd Arrangement: The Headless Waltz**_

For once, Jack didn't linger after attending to a client. He began to get dressed almost as soon as the woman left, her cheeks still flushed and skirt wrinkled. Tugging up his trousers, he gathered up his pay and poured it into his pouch. Before he left the room, he went to the window, using the glass as a replacement mirror as he fiddled with his appearance - prostitute or not he wasn't about to walk out there looking like one. There was a red ribbon tucked in his pocket, and he used it to tie off the end of his braid. Once he straightened out his dark-red vest over his white shirt, he deemed himself acceptable in appearance.

He took a deep breath. _Okay, it's probably around noon now. I should hurry_. Untying the ribbon on the door handle, Jack all but sprinted downstairs, nearly colliding with Marie at the bottom.

"Gyah!" she cried, half in surprise, and half in contempt when she realized it was Jack.

He laughed, passing off their near-crash as him spinning her in a circle. "Ahaha, blessed Crimson Crest to you too, Marie!" he exclaimed happily, leaning over to peck her on the cheek.

"How dare you!" she hissed under her breath, pushing him away. A tall male behind her surveyed the scene with a frown - he must've been Marie's latest client.

Jack quickly backed off, holding up his hands innocently but still laughing. Marie only huffed and grabbed her customer's wrist, all but dragging him upstairs. Humming energetically to himself - if only to distract himself as emerald eyes glanced left then right - he made his way out the door...

A hand clapped onto his shoulder and Jack's humming hit a long flat note. Miranda tilted her head, raising a brow. "Jack, where do you think you're going? The day is no where near finished."

"Ah-ha-ha," the blond chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was, how would you put it, going to leave for a few hours?" At Miranda's look of disbelief, Jack lost his energy and sighed deeply. "Today's the Crimson Crest Festival, no? My little sister wanted to go since I didn't take her last year-"

An incredulous laugh left Miranda's red-painted lips. "You're going to skip out on attending to clients...to attend to children?" she asked slowly, as if the logic would present itself if she did.

Not giving an inch, Jack nodded. A gaggle of chittery women entered the cabaret then, and Jack took Miranda out of the way of the door. He took out his pouch, dangling it in front of her. "It's not as if I'm completely skipping out on today. Four in a little over two hours. I consider it a new best of mine."

"You're one of the most requested, Jack, if not the most. You can't just leave to indulge in more _innocent _pleasures," Miranda said, crossing her arms tightly, her breasts squished together.

"It's one day, my sweet rose. Even I need a break - want my cock to fall off, do you? Leave me with no seed left?" asked Jack lightly, prodding her shoulder. Before she could protest further, he pressed a finger to her lips. "Ah-ah-ah. It'll be fine. I think the only reason you're not in the mood of the holiday is because you're in red everyday." He twisted a lock of her crimson hair pointedly.

She lightly slapped his hand away. "Charming. Fine, go off today."

Jack smiled. "Don't worry, I'll tell the old man myself about it before he thinks I'm holding out on him," he promised, walking out the door. Behind him, he called, "Blessed Crimson Crest, Miranda!"

To which he only got a roll of eyes and a half-smile in response.

The sun beat down on the town in friendly light, not too hot. As Jack walked down the streets, he became instantly surrounded by more and more people wearing some form of red - ribbons, dresses, hats, shoes, suits. All for Sablier's celebration that came once every year at the end of the summer.

_Or rather, mourning_, corrected Jack, ignoring the admired stares he got.

Once, the king of Sablier, Glen Baskerville, had a little sister named Lacie. When they were mere children, a terrible tragedy befell the castle and royal family. An enemy whose identity still today remained a mystery stormed past the guards and gates, and, by the account of the then-nine-year-old king, killed the previous monarchs and stole Princess Lacie. It had become a story of great loss for all in Sablier, and many weeks passed attempting to find the stolen girl.

For the first few years, on the anniversary day, denizens of the kingdom lit red candles and lanterns and took to wearing red. The crimson color was the royal hue of the Baskervilles - embraced with the cloak the family wore - and also the color of Princess Lacie's eyes.

Red blood that had been spilled, red eyes of the princess, and red of the Baskervilles.

Eventually the mourning gave way to a lighter tone, and became a memorial festival for Sablier. Items of every kind, all the same color, were sold at booths lined at the edge of the castle's gates. At night, red fireworks shot in the sky for Princess Lacie - no one said it, but everyone hoped that she'd be able to see them, were she safe and alive wherever her kidnapper had taken her. Each year, one more was added.

Eighteen fireworks would explode in the sky this year.

Soon it became the "Crimson Crest Festival," as Sablier's borders formed a crestlike image on a map.

Jack himself had only been about eight when the incident happened, but he remembered his mother answering the door to a panicked neighbor. Once they had left, his mother walked to the window and slumped against it, looking outside with dead eyes.

"What is the world coming to?" she had asked in a whisper, like a winter wind.

A wreath of red blooms hung on the door to the children's home and Jack knocked on the door. When it opened with a creak, a woman with graying hair and a stern expression answered. Recognition flickered in her winter-blue eyes at the sight of him.

"I keep tellin' you, this is a children's home for _orphaned _children, Jack," she grumbled. A broom was in one of her hands and she made short sweeping motions toward him. "Make me babysit your brother and sister again-"

"Oh, such a lovely woman should not make such harsh threats," interrupted Jack with a lilt, giving her one of his most charming smiles. Usually this gave him another chance with her, and he wasn't disappointed this time.

Scowling, but looking flustered, she turned around and barked out his siblings' names. Two children with sunshine-blond hair shuffled out, looking at the woman tentatively. Jack took his brother Oz's hand, who was holding Ada, and pulled them toward him.

She narrowed her eyes and her broom suddenly appeared to be a weapon of some kind. "I'm honestly tellin' you this time, if you bring them back-"

Swiftly, he reached out a hand, offering the woman the silver coin resting on his palm. "For your troubles, my lady."

She took the coin and scoffed, closing the door with a bang behind her.

An awkward silence rose in which the three stood there staring at the closed door. At some point, Oz raised a brow, looking up at Jack. "Keep all this up, and she'll learn to resist you," he warned with a small, sardonic chuckle. He hefted Ada up a little higher in his arms, readjusting his hold on her. "I mean, she's not one of your clients."

Forcing a birght smile, Jack patted Oz hard four times on the head. "Oh. You're. So. Silly," he sang, looking pointedly at Ada. Not that she ever got the snide jabs Oz would make about Jack's job. Both older brothers made sure not to point-blank say what Jack did when she was there to listen, in case she repeated it to the wrong person.

Oz, however, was old enough to know not to say anything. Still, it didn't mean he wouldn't abuse the knowledge - and Oz was a mischiveous boy, knowing exactly how to mock Jack.

But today was the festival, and Ada was wearing her only red dress, with Oz tugging at his red ribbon tied around his collar. Attempting to lighten the mood, Jack took Ada out of Oz's arms and led them to the main part of town. "Come now, we should be frivolous and have fun today, right? I got some extra money, so we can do whatever you'd like."

As soon as he said the last sentence, Jack knew it was the wrong thing to mention. Smirking, Oz said, "Oh yes, I know."

"Oz, stop being mean to Jack!" exclaimed Ada. She attempted to scowl, but on her face it came off as more of a pout. "Today is fun day!"

"Look, our sister is so much more lovable than yooou~," said Jack, cuddling her closer and tickling her sides. She shrieked in glee, wriggling in his arms.

Now Oz pouted, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Ada, you're not really mad at me, are you?" he asked tentatively, peering up at her.

Ada considered a moment then shook her head. Oz smiled and continued to talk to Jack about how mean the woman at the children's home was, and that two boys had been picking on Ada, so of course Oz had to teach them a lesson. If Jack could, he wouldn't leave his siblings there, but it was easier when he had to make quick runs to the cabaret.

He kept up with his two siblings chatting away as best as he could. Since he had been trying to save up for the festival on top of everything else, Jack had had to once again skip out on buying some midnight oil from Miranda. And slowly, the days and sleepless nights were catching up to him. His head hurt, and no matter how much he wanted to sleep, he couldn't. Even eating and drinking seemed like too much of a chore.

Luckily for Jack, he was very nearly an expert liar, and a good actor. Neither Oz or Ada seemed to be aware that their oldest brother was fatigued.

The center of the kingdom was right near the gates of the Baskerville castle, and as it was, the castle was appropriately located at the middle of the crest that was Sablier. Even the bricks that made up the architecture was of the slight color of burning flames. With towers pointing high, and the facade somewhat stout, it really did appear as though the castle was a great blazing fire. Especially at sunset, when everything glowed, it was quite the impressive sight to behold.

Ada pointed up at Baskerville castle, practically jumping in Jack's arms. "Wow, look, the castle! You can only see a little bit from home!" she gasped in awe.

Jack laughed, rearranging her small body so that she was sitting on top of his shoulders. Other children were out and frolicking with their parents close by. Everyone seemed to have a healthy smile on their faces and were having a good time with the vendors and street performances.

While Ada got her face painted under a small tent, Oz looked up at Jack. "Hey, you still have that on," he remarked, pointing near Jack's chest.

A silver chain fell over his neck, coming down at a silver pendant. A pendant resembling a flower encased within a square. It was the same necklace Jack had taken from the corpse he found in the alleyway nearly three days ago. He hadn't gotten around to selling off yet. Why he hadn't was uncertain even to him.

The morning after he had come home that same night, it fell out of his pocket, tumbling onto the floor. At Oz's rather accusatory questions, Jack only said that he found it - which certainly was true enough.

"Don't worry about it. I'm planning to sell it anyhow," he had explained, picking it up. He dangled the flower shape in front of Oz's face. "It's rather pretty, no? I think I can fetch a good price off it."

The hint was clear enough - if he got enough money for the necklace, maybe he wouldn't need to go to Incuse, if at least for a few days. Jack was sure the reason would make Oz happy. Instead, his brother only tilted his head and said, "Why don't you keep it? You know, at least for a few days."

"Eh, what for?" Jack asked, giving the necklace a critical look. "I don't even know what this design means. I could be parading around something dangerous." Ada was against his leg, looking up at the accessory with gleaming eyes, murmuring an awed, "Pretty..."

"We should save it. Pawn it off in an emergency," Oz explained, leaning against the table. He tugged a lock of his blond hair in the same fashion Jack did from time to time. "I mean, we're pretty stable right now, despite not having a lot. I got a job as being a helper for the farmer down the road when he needs it."

That got Jack's attention instantly. He shoved the necklace in his pocket and resisted the urge to grab his little brother's shoulders. "Oz, you can't do jobs like that! You might get sick right there, and what then? I," he composed himself, lowering his voice, "I really would rather you stay here at home. With Ada."

"I'm not letting a little sickness get in the way. Besides, I have medicine for it," reasoned Oz, although his gaze had lowered a little.

Jack caught it and crossed his arms. He rarely got so stern but he'd been having to do it with his brother a lot in recent months. "But the medicine doesn't always work. Sometimes it's like you might as well be taking nothing."

Ah. He hadn't meant to say that. It must've sounded like they wasted money on Oz. Jack mentally cringed, waiting for Oz's retort. He was prepared for his brother to be angry or sad for the comment - and rightly so - but nothing came. For the second time that day, Oz surprised him.

He shrugged. "Alright then," he said evenly. It held no particular emotion to it.

And for some odd reason it made Jack scared.

Jack picked up the pendant of the necklace from where it rested on his chest. "It's not a bad thing. Besides, I like to keep things on my person and what's the point in keeping a necklace in my pocket?" he asked.

"Sounds right to me," Oz agreed lightly, smiling as he held the back of his head with his hands. At that same moment, Ada came waltzing out of the tint, two small red roses painted on each of her cheeks. She smiled widely, waiting expectantly for her older brothers' reactions.

"Uwah, Ada, you were cute before but now you're just too adorable~!" gushed Oz, bending down to nuzzle their noses together. Ada giggled and clapped her hands as Jack thanked the painter, giving him a coin.

"Okay, now you get one too, Oz!" she declared, grabbing his cheeks and stretching them every which way.

Oz attempted to laugh, but it came out funny sounding. "Ah-heh, I don't think so."

"Why nooooot?" sang Ada, as if his answer didn't really bother her. As long as she could keep messing around with his face. Now she was tweaking his nose.

"Ah, I am not cute like Ada, you see-eeeek!" shrieked Oz in surprise when his sister grabbed his nose.

Jack smiled as he watched the two of them play. This was how it should be, with his siblings free to be so spirited and act like, well, kids. Not that Jack believed them to be an unhappy family, just...one that couldn't place things like a happy childhood first. Even Ada knew when she had to be quiet and out of the way, doing exactly as her brothers told her to. And it wasn't as if either of them had particularly good friends to be with.

When Ada began taking too much a liking to honking on Oz's nose, Jack tapped her shoulder. "Hey, let's go see what's down over here, okay?" he offered.

"Okaaay," agreed Ada, holding onto the end of Jack's long braid. Oz shot him a grateful look, rubbing his nose that was reddening from the abuse.

A little further down, Jack spotted a group of children around his little sister's age playing near a small garden blooming with wildflowers. He thought maybe this was a good time for Ada to play with other kids and was about to point this out when he noticed the tugging on his braid was absent.

"Eh?" He looked down and around. Where was...Ada...? The realization hit Jack and he whirled around to seize Oz's shoulders tightly. "Where did she go?"

Oz held up his hands for peace. "Calm down, she's just trailed over there. What, you didn't think I'd keep an eye on her as well?" He pouted, crossing his arms. "Thanks, Jack, I can see how much you appreciate me."

Trying hard not to scowl, Jack looked over to where Oz pointed. Ada had drifted off to stand in front of a raised platform that three people were standing on. Jack grabbed Oz's wrist and dragged him over. Soon the sounds of a violin and beating tambourine were heard, dancing over the small square. The three on the platform appeared to be musicians, with a black-haired man dancing around and singing.

"_As above, so below, place your bets  
Which way the head will roll  
Made in your image, we are at least  
As twisted and mean as thee  
'For your eyes, what a curious sight  
Your children have turned on you  
And you say, you don't sleep well at night  
Well, we'll take care of that for you_!"

Jack picked up Ada, scowling at her, although it was a light one. She smiled and returned her attention to the three musicians, clapping her hands in time with the song.

Oz stood beside them, tilting his head. "Strange words, aren't they?" he asked with a small frown. "And I don't think that make up is traditional, right...?"

Honestly, Jack hadn't been listening. The sounds of the instruments were actually making his head throb. But then he realized the words the black-haired man was singing, and suddenly knew why parents were quickly hurrying their children along. It had seemed innocent enough at first, but probably because each of the three were smiling - but now their grins looked so sardonic.

Although everyone was wearing some form of red upon them, no one was made-up quite like the performers. All their clothes were pitch-black, but their necks were all splattered red. As the song went on, Jack began to realize why.

"_Get this damn thing off my neck  
I'm the head of the board now I'm bored of my head  
Sharpen up the blade boys  
What are you waiting for?  
Here's where we all get ahead!  
Wipe that damn smile off your face  
Or we'll lop it off clean with our new guillotine  
Sharpen up the blade, boys  
Bells are now tolling, soon heads will be rolling_!"

An uneasy feeling crept up Jack's spine like some slithery creature had gotten trapped under his skin when the singer locked eyes with him. The man's eyes glinted in mischief as he twirled around with the tambourine player.

Jack's hold on his sister tightened protectively. "Ah, Ada, perhaps you shouldn't be listening to this. Come, let's go back over there, there's a garden with flowers-"

"I want to listen to this," protested Ada lightly, staring transfixed at the performers. Jack exchanged a look with Oz, who shrugged. Well...children didn't pay much attention to the words of songs, right?

At that same moment, there was the rustle of chainmail and clunk of armour as four guards emerged from the crowd. A red crest was imprinted proudly upon their chests, their hand lingering over the hilt of the swords at their hip. The few members of the audience quickly departed to get away from the guards.

The violinist noticed first and ended their playing with a sharp note. The tambourine player gave him a stern look, but the violinist fled the platform, a guard chasing after him. The song kept pouring from the singer's lips even as he noticed the guards himself. If anything, he seemed to suddenly be singing _to _them.

"_Please, Sir, for me, Sir  
Won't you see if you see, Sir?  
Oh dear, I dread  
I seem to have lost my head  
I think I left it about  
It fell to the ground  
And I kicked it around_!"

"Quiet, you!" hissed one of the armoured men, grabbing the singer's arm and yanking him down the platform. The tambourine hit the floor as its player was suddenly seized as well, hands forced behind her back.

But the black-haired singer kept on.

"_Has anyone seen, no need to be mean,  
My bloody, fat, ugly head_?"

He locked eyes with Ada and held out a hand to her, imploring her with his singing.

"_Please, Miss, for me, Sis  
Won't you see if you see, Sis  
It's got black hair  
And it's kickin' about in the square_!"

The guard hit him in the back of the head and the man fell to his knees, looking dizzy. Still, the words kept going, his words sounding out-of-tune and ominous without instruments behind his voice.

"_I'm...not really not totally sure, but...  
I think that it might have rolled in the sewer  
Has anyone seen, no need to be mean_-"

The man was punched in the gut and he let out a choked noise. "_My bloody...fat...ugly...head_?" And with that last little chant, the singer finally fell. The guard huffed and hefted him over his shoulder. The other guard tied the tambourine player's wrists together and led her away as well. People murmured in their wake, exchanging expressions of interest, disgust, and terror.

_Those performers really were something else. Were they from Sablier? _Jack wondered as he furrowed his brows. Slowly, he put Ada down, narrowing his eyes slightly after the carted-away musicians. He really didn't like that singer that had tried to catch his little sister's attention. What did that man think she'd do? Go on up and join him? _Lunatics are everywhere_.

Ada stared after them, her emerald eyes wide in wonder. "What happened? Who were those people?" she asked.

"Probably just some nuts," Oz reasoned with a small shrug. There was light amusement on his face though. "Who knows?"

Ada blinked, looking back at the platform the musicians had been standing on. "But I liked the song," she remarked absently.

Jack laughed, albeit it was forced. "Well, sometimes things seem nice, Ada, but they turn out to be bad." He bent down and ruffled her blond hair, smiling reassuringly. "Don't worry about it now, though. Come, there is still plenty we can do before the fireworks appe-" The rest of Jack's sentence was swallowed up by a tugging on his collar, yanking him up and turning him around.

One of the guards that had helped take the singing man away searched his face for a moment before his eyes fell onto his chest. Jack chuckled good-naturedly, albeit nervously. Had his shirt ridden up and revealed part of his whore's mark tattoo? Before he could ask what was wrong, Jack jumped when the guard reached out and examined the blond's necklace.

The stolen necklace from a corpse. "Ah-ha, is something the matter, Mister Guard, sir?" _Ridiculous, he'd never be able to tell it was stolen...would he_? Jack's pulse sped up when the cool eyes met his own emerald ones.

"Jack?" asked Ada, looking worried.

He waved her off, but never took his eyes off the guard. "'Tis fine, Ada, Mister Guard will tell me what is wrong," he said, prompting the man to speak.

Finally, a sort of grin spread on the guard's face. "Finally found one of you," he declared proudly. He seized Jack's wrist tightly as if the blond would try to escape. Jack blinked in surprise, but was cut off from saying anything. "You have no idea how hard it is to catch you guys. Come, you're going along with me."

Panic rose in Jack's chest and he tried to pull back, glancing in worry back at his younger siblings. Oz was holding Ada now, but was staring at Jack with wide, stunned eyes. It was obvious they were just as confused as him.

"W-wait, my good sir, c-could you please tell me where you're taking me?" he asked, still struggling. It was a fruitless effort though, as it was clear the guard was much stronger than him. He was yanked forward and nearly crashed into the man's armour. "Sir!"

"I'm taking you to the castle. I believe His Majesty, King Glen, would like to have a word with you," explained the guard tartly, starting to walk once more.

For a second, Jack numbly followed, his eyes slowly going up to the looming red-tinged castle. "Wh-what," he whispered, feeling the blood drain from his face. "Th-the King?" Oh no. Oh no. Just how much trouble was he in?

"Jack!" cried Ada.

Quickly, Jack snapped himself back to reality, turning back to his siblings. Oz was right behind him, giving him the same stunned look as Ada's small hand gripped his braid. Her eyes were glistening. "Don't go! Where are you going!" she exclaimed.

If he was indeed in trouble...then he couldn't get his brother and sister involved. He wouldn't let them suffer for whatever mistake he made. God knew he made a whole lot of them. Offering a small smile, Jack retrieved his money pouch and shoved it onto Ada's lap. He looked straight at Oz when he murmured, "Shh-shh. It's okay. It's alright. I'll just go get this straightened out, okay? Brother will be right back." He had to say this in a rush because he was yanked forward again.

Oz frowned deeply, but stopped walking after him. Wordlessly, he took Ada's hand, making her drop her hold on Jack's braid. Jack tried not to let his fear and panic show when Ada began to wail, squirming desperately in Oz's arms. A few passerby stopped, glancing at the two young blonds walking around without an adult. The last thing Jack saw before his siblings were swallowed up by the red crowd was Oz trying to calm Ada down, pocketing Jack's pouch.

He let out a breath, visibly deflating. Tentatively, he looked at the guard then down at where his hand gripped Jack's wrist. "Say, you don't have to grip me so hard. I won't run or anything," he offered. Although he was wondering if he'd hold up on that promise.

"No can do. There's no telling if you'll run off, and it took me months to even get one of you," the guard replied. It wasn't a rough tone, but something more along the lines of excited.

For a moment, Jack's nose wrinkled in disgust, thinking the guard just wanted to get off on him - maybe his tattoo had showed after all. But then he realized it wasn't that. He really was being led to the gates of the castle. _Maybe he's excited to kill me off_. Jack's heart jumped to his throat. He still didn't even know _what _he had done!

"L-Look, Mister Guard? If it's about what happened back there, I-I swear I'm had no part in it. I don't even know who those people were-"

"I'm not taking you in for that, you ninny!" interrupted the guard impatiently. When the reached the ebony gates, he have the knights on duty a curt nod and they opened the bars for him. There was a stone path that led the way straight to the front entrance of the castle and the guard quickly led them down it.

Jack's breath hitched and he looked about frantically, feeling suddenly very noticable, like a spot on white sheets. Never had he been inside the castle gates, of course, being born in the lower class and having the occupation of a prostitute. Maybe once or twice Jack had pleasured a knight, but surely he wasn't being brought to the castle - to _King Glen _- for that, right?

Metal of the guard's armour and the scuffle of Jack's boots sounded on the hard path. Surrounding them was a brilliant lawn with neatly trimmed bushes and flowers Jack had never seem before blooming within them. Strangely, the bushes gave way to hedges further on that seemed to form a sort of maze. Jack pictured the guard shoving him somewhere deep in the lawn and leaving him to find the way out.

At the castle's great front doors were two more knights, standing at attention. Red ribbons were tied to the hilts of their swords. As the opened the doors for them, Jack once again tried to get an answer too his many questions.

"Please, won't you tell me why you've brought me here?" he asked. His hand was beginning to cramp from being held so tightly by the wrist.

"I've told you. His Majesty will give you the details."

"A-ah, but I haven't-" The rest of Jack's words left him when he was taken inside the great castle. A large hall was spread before him, with two other halls branching on either side of him. Above him was a high, vaulted ceiling, carved with various designs he had never seen before.

Windows bathed the place in soft red-orange light, as if the sun's rays were reflected everywhere. Further down straight in front of him was a large, wide staircase covered over with red carpeting. There didn't seem to be a single trace of dust or dirt. Everything looked so immaculate, and even the air seemed cleaner.

Oh dear. Jack really felt out of place here. He really did. Whatever he had been about to say seemed of so little significance at that moment. He was in someone else's domain and could all too easily be silenced here.

He was pulled down to the hallway to the right. Doors were rowed on the left, windows standing brightly in the opposite direction. Most of them were closed, save for one, which Jack wasn't surprised to be led into. Inside were four bookcases at each corner and a rectangular table in the center with two chairs at each of the shorter sides. Thick red curtains blocked most of the light from the windows, making the room seem dark and lonely.

The guard all but shoved Jack into one of the seats. At least he let go of his hand, and Jack hissed softly when circulation began to flow again. "We wait here until King Glen comes. He knows of your arrival."

At this point Jack had all but given up on any questions of why he was here. He tried not to slump in his seat, and in the end he sat up straight, awkwardly looking around. There weren't any weapons around. There was nothing whatsoever to indicate the kind of trouble he was in. Jack gulped and focused at looking down at his folded hands on his lap. Even he was surprised not to be shaking.

_I'm a better actor than I thought_...

For a few minutes, nothing happened. The guard stood at his side, silent and stalwart like a brick wall. Uncomfortably, Jack shifted in his seat, but got a glare in response. What was he supposed to do, not even breathe?

Then footsteps approached, a few figures stepping inside the room. Jack sat up straighter, if possible, feeling his heart rate quicken. Several royal knights came an approached the table, covering most of the perimeter of the table. One of the knights turned to the door, where another man was slowly walking inside.

Really, the knight needn't have announced the new man, as Jack knew too well who was approaching. _Oh. I could die today. Whatever I came here for, whatever sins I've committed, I'll answer to them now_. Jack held his breath, his eyes falling upon the king of Sablier for the first time.

* * *

**Ending A/N: **Reviews are such nice things. And yes, I purposefully cut it off when Glen arrives at the scene. Eh-heh-heh~


	4. Shady

**A/N: **Hey there, guys! Sorry it's been so long since it's updated. College is such a drag sometimes, and my sleeping schedule is all sorts of backwards right now, haha. But I did this over the break, so now I bring to you and update! :D I do hope you enjoy it -bows-

The title of this chapter comes from a song by Vermilion Lies (another artist to join the cabaret group, albeit a bit on the lighter side~). I think since this was the first meeting of Oswald and Jack, it was appropriate if you gave his a lighter feel :B

_**3rd Arrangement: Shady**_

Jack was prompted to his feet, nearly yanked up by his capturer as the guards parted to let in King Glen Baskerville. Immediately Jack's verdant gaze lowered to the polished stone ground, mindlessly tracing over the tiles to ignore the fact that he was being approached by the most powerful man in Sablier, arguably the whole nation. With each step that echoed in the room, Jack felt his resolve get smaller and smaller, all his usual confidence going out the door.

A pair of black boots stopped a few feet from him. Jack could make out the black drapery of a cloak beneath the flowing waterfall of the royal red Baskerville robe. Without any prompting, before the guard could hiss in his ear, Jack managed a graceful bow, his braid falling over his shoulder.

"Your Majesty," he said in a voice that luckily didn't betray any of his nerves. He stayed like that for a moment, feeling it wouldn't be right to rise just yet, and no one was prompting him to do so. Awkwardly, Jack stayed in that bowed state, hot chills running through his body.

_I can...feel it. I can feel his eyes on me_.

Of course, Jack wasn't referring to the guard who brought him in, but Glen Baskerville. _I'm not even looking at him, but I can feel his eyes...piercing right into me_...

Then a voice, deep and soft, like some rich velvet, asked, "This is truly one of them then?"

"Yes, sir, saw the mark myself," Jack's guard replied with a pleased tone. Jack tried hard not to let any amount of horror cross his expression. But how could he not be full of fear? The mark could mean only one thing and Jack was running it through his mind, of why on earth the King of Sablier would want anything to do with a prostitute.

It hit him all at once and he felt a hot blush darken his face.

A white-gloved hand came into his field of vision and gestured for Jack to rise. When the blond righted himself, he still kept his eyes downcast, terrified of what would happen should he gaze upon the king's face. A beat of silence followed until the velvet voice murmured, "You all may leave us."

The surprise was palpable in the air. Even Jack jumped, snapping his head up to look at King Glen with wide eyes. Would this be so soon? Here? Hundreds of questions ran through Jack's mind, but he couldn't bring himself to make any of them come out of his mouth. Not with the sight of that face, framed with straight, jet-black hair. He had only seen the monarch's face in passing, never really looking upon it, and he supposed he hadn't expected someone so...handsome and calm.

Glen Baskerville had an angular face, pale skin and untense violet eyes that were narrow and vibrant. His whole countenance didn't show any particular emotion of distress or excitement as the other guards were displaying in their eyes. At first glance, he seemed uninterested even, but Jack could see how much those violet eyes were focused on him, right below his jaw and somewhere near his collar...

Jack was snapped out of his gawking when the guard behind him exclaimed, "M-my king! Should this criminal dare try to harm you-!"

A hand was held up for silence, even as those eyes hadn't torn away from Jack's form.

"I am more than capable of handling myself," King Glen said meaningfully. "You may all leave us. Guard outside if you are so inclined."

"I..." Each of the men hesitated before finally nodding, filing out of the room in an orderly fashion with a clank of armor. Jack's own guard gave one last look of warning straight at the blond before closing the door. The rustle of chainmail went on for a second more before stopping.

Jack could only stand the silence for so long. Quickly, he bowed again. "Your Majesty, I confess, I know I am but a-"

"No, please, let me talk," the dark-haired man said, loosely crossing his arms, hands at his elbows. For a king, he only seemed to wear the barest hints of apparel and accessory of his position. He wore no jewelry, had on his head no crown. There were onyx studs in his ears, but that seemed to be the sum of it besides the royal Baskerville cloak over his shoulders.

King Glen turned, slowly walking over to the other side of the table, taking a seat opposite Jack. The casual yet elegant manner of the man confused Jack slightly, and he stared blankly, slowly glancing down again.

"You may sit."

Trying not to jump, Jack nodded energetically and plopped himself back in his chair. When there was nothing but silence and Jack's blood rushing in his ears, he finally worked up the courage to look back up to the face of the monarch of Sablier.

If Jack thought he was being pierced into before, it didn't compare to actually returning that violet gaze. It was as if that gaze had hands, much the same way with his stalker, and was searching deep in him. Violated mercilessly - yet this was also different, but Jack was to frozen in fear to look deeper into the matter.

King Glen tilted his head slightly. "I presume you know why you're here," he said slowly.

The heat rushed to Jack's cheeks again. He glanced over at the door where the guards were surely standing. Could they hear all this? Finally, he nodded. "I've never...provided my services to someone of Your Majesty's standing, however."

"Yes, most monarchs wouldn't go down to the level of one of your kind," admitted the dark-haired man.

"_Your kind_." Even that guard from before had claimed Jack to be a "criminal," as if he had murdered someone. He knew that being a prostitute was far from the highest looked-upon profession, but a job was a job. Even a royally-appointed officer couldn't deny his pleasures of the flesh - and apparently, so couldn't a king.

Puffing up his chest, Jack held his head up higher and, voice stronger, said, "Pardon me, my king, but what you think of my job doesn't matter when _you _called up for someone such as me."

The expression on the dark-haired man's face didn't change, although his eyes gleamed slightly. Jack took it to be a glare and shrank back slightly. Keeping the scowl from his countenance, the blond flushed a little, verdant gaze sweeping over the man opposite him. "Although I am surprised... Your Majesty did not toss me out on the spot when he found I am not a woman."

Lashes, dark and long, ghosted over violet eyes as King Glen blinked. "I'm not sure what you mean, but I cannot throw you out. As of now, you are working under your new client - me." He rose up from his seat then, gloved hand slowly working over the crimson folds of the Baskerville robe so that it fell onto the chair. Jack started at the slow but sudden action, wondering if he should start getting undressed as well.

"My, um, king-"

"You may address me as simply 'Glen' when we're alone," the dark-haired man said as he walked over to Jack's side of the table. He didn't give the blond another look as he came towards him...before walking past Jack completely to the bookshelf behind him.

A breath Jack hadn't known he'd been holding left him. _What just_...

Jack was silent. The air in the room had suddenly become quite different, and not in the way the blond had thought it would. Clearly, the king didn't mean to have him brought here because for any of Jack's usual use to others. Still, what other "service" could he possibly provide? He was but a peasant, low as they come. And...and that guard had clearly said something about a mark!

When Glen came back, he was holding a book in his hands, crimson with golden, glossy letters over it. He settled the book before Jack and looked down at it, his black hair creating a curtain around his face as a hand traced over the cover of the book like it was precious treasure. Quietly, he said, "I presume...you know about my younger sister, Lacie Baskerville? About eighteen years ago, in addition to the deaths of our previous monarchs, she was taken away. This festival takes place in honor of her, and of everything else lost on that day."

At a loss for anything else appropriate to say, Jack nodded. "Yes, sire," he said solemnly. "I know well about Your Ma-um, Glen's loss."

"What you don't know is what I saw, however," Glen said. He lifted his head slowly, one violet eye glittering beneath the parting of black hair. "Unless you've somehow investigated that too?"

Still more than confused, the blond thought it best to stick to short sentences. "I couldn't have, G...Glen." To be on these familiar terms with the king - Jack, a lowly prostitute! What things he'd have to tell Miranda - should he ever see her again...

Violet gaze lowered. "Yes. You couldn't." The book was opened with a creak and Jack saw that it was no book at all, but a sort of box, a false book with not pages of a story or history within. Inside this box were many crumpled pieces of parchment, some with drawings, some in lettering Jack couldn't decipher. And there, right on the top was a picture of Lacie Baskerville.

Like Glen, Jack had never particularly gazed upon the face of the princess before. He only knew any of the royal family from portraits. Public events in which the Baskervilles had part in were events he usually avoided. Yet this young girl, cheeks a little round and fully pink, eyes wide and ruby-red... Yes, he was quite certain she was the lost princess named Lacie Baskerville.

With a shuffle of papers, Glen pulled out one particular piece of parchment and held it up close to him so that Jack couldn't see what was on it.

"There was something I saw. Something that most passed off as a trick of eyes by a child under a spell," explained Glen, eyes narrowing slightly in what seemed like pain. He was suddenly somewhere else, within the realm of his memories and not fully seeming to be talking to Jack when he spoke again.

"A creature. Something I never gazed upon before. Shrouded in darkness - tangible, moving darkness that appeared like liquid, but also gas. It was radiating majick. And there's one more thing." Glen put the piece of parchment down and before Jack, but his hand still covered most of what was on it. "It had eyes. Right within that mass of darkness, was a pair of eyes. That creature is what took Lacie. I saw it."

Jack was growing frightened. The calm demeanor he was introduced to before seemed to slowly be fading. Glen's brow was creased with worry, and his fingers were twitching over the paper as if wanting to crumple it up. Quietly, he murmured, "Sire?"

With a sharp shake of his head, Glen had reigned himself in some. "I have brought you here for one reason, Jetrose thief. I have but one goal to accomplish with you. Please...will you help me?" he asked, voice coming to a cadence.

Jack started, the very floor seeming to have gone, threatening for him to fall.

A thief? The mark! It hadn't made sense to Jack that they had gone on about a mark yet never once seemed to have gazed upon his tattoo. More than once, they had been looking at the _necklace _he wore, with the _symbol _he knew nothing of, knew not of what it signified. So this was what all this had been about!

The man he had stolen this from had been a thief. A thief a part of an underground, but no less notorious, band called Jetrose. Jack had never known much about them, except that they existed. They were like a legend, and to Jack, nothing more than a tale. But...

His hand slowly drew up to his collar, fingertips brushing against the silver pendant upon it. The symbol was that of a rose, black and threatening to all, thorns on every side. _Oh_. Oh dear. Jack felt his stomach plummet. This wasn't right, he had no right to be here. Glen expected a thief. A great thief, at that! Jack could pick-pocket and swindle for sure, but he had no reputation for it!

Ah! But that was... Slowly, and very carefully so that his true nature could not somehow be betrayed in his eyes (how did a thief go about looking at another person?), Jack looked up to meet Glen's gaze. "Glen, why do you need a Jetrose thief? You're a man of power - surely you have the means to obtain whatever you desired, and in a less...questionable way?"

Glen gave him a contemplative look then shook his head. "What I need isn't something people believe exists," he confessed and removed his hand from the parchment.

On the page was a picture of a creature that was exactly as Glen had described. Jack's brows furrowed as he took in this...thing of smoke and swirls and all black. It was like a cloud, but also like a wild waterfall. How something on a flat page could look so much like a real-life illusion fascinated Jack. And then there, yes, were almond-shaped slits that definitely looked to be eyes.

Jack's eyes roamed the rest of the page, but found nothing on it, not even words or symbols. Gingerly taking the parchment, Jack looked it over. On one side was a series of uneven, fraying lines. Clearly it had once been a page in a book, but someone had torn it out.

"What am I looking at exactly?" Jack said quietly. Despite the fact he had no business there and should he attempt this charade that was clearly out of his league, he would likely be killed...Jack could not help but show interest. This was a part of Lacie's kidnapping he had never heard of. And this monster was something he had never cast eyes upon, not in any fairytale he knew of.

As he went through more papers, Glen said, "What you're looking at is what has come to be known as 'Abyss'."

"Abyss...," muttered Jack. The very picture could swallow him whole if it were so inclined - or so was the impression the blond received from it. Yes, Abyss indeed. "But what is it, sire? What would it want with the Princess Lacie?"

"I have taken the liberty of doing most of your research for you, as I've been longng to see my sister again everyday for these eighteen years," Glen admitted languidly, dipping his hand into the contents of the book-box. Jack didn't have a chance to comment or reach out in concern before more papers were being placed in front of him.

"Abyss is a creature of myth. Truly, it cannot even be considered a 'creature,' as it has no distinct characteristics of 'living' - it does not eat, it does not breathe, it has no earthly reasons for being, yet it still is," Glen began to explain. He turned and sat on the table, crossing his legs. Jack momentarily looked up at the feminine posture, glancing at the tautly stretch of black fabric over thighs...

One of Glen's fingers tapped one of the papers and Jack quickly got it out to examine it. "That is because it is not one of the usual mythical creatures of this world. It is of it's own world, and once it was contained in something I'm sure you've heard of - it's known as 'Pandora's Box'."

"The box that holds chaos? It holds...Abyss?" Jack pieced together slowly.

"Held," corrected Glen easily. "It's no longer inside the Box. Because a long time ago, before any of us or our ancestors were born, it was released. Abyss doesn't wish to return to it's container, and so for thousands of years, it has been hopping from one human vessel to another, to live."

There was nothing on the pages that Jack could decipher. Languages he had only ever dabbled in, languages he had no idea how to begin to identify... There were more drawings, mostly of Abyss, each in some different style, but those slant of eyes were always a constant. There was a drawing of Abyss hovering over the form of a helpless sleeping woman who appeared to be having a nightmare. Unnerved, Jack placed that page down and said, "So you think perhaps...Abyss took the young princess to be its vessel?"

Glen nodded, hands on his lap. "This is what I believe."

Jack made a low humming sound. The light outside was fading fast. Soon even the sunset would be over and it would be night. Oz and Ada... His siblings were still out there without him, and he had no idea what they were doing at that instant. He had to go back, had to reunite with them and end this charade.

"Your job is to find Pandora's Box, Jack," said Glen suddenly, voice stronger than it had been this whole time. When Jack looked up at him in shock, he was frightened to see that the dark-haired man was quite serious. "I want you to steal it for me."

A loud creak and drag of wood sounded in the room as Jack moved his chair back, eyes wide in horror. "Y-Your Majesty? You don't honestly think I could-! That is," he stopped himself, looking at the pages scattered on the table, all of Abyss, "you don't truly believe this, do you? Abyss is but a myth, you said it yourself, sire! Princess Lacie wouldn't be taken by such a thing, she couldn't!"

Oh, was the king mad or something? To believe in such tales... Yet Glen did not appear as someone who would be so sincere about such matters concerning his sister if they were not truly real.

Glen tilted his head again, not angry or offended by Jack's abrupt action. "I can see...you are overwhelmed," he said in a low voice, glancing away, catching the blond by surprise. Glen slid down from the table and went back to his seat to put his robe back on. "Please, let one of my servants take you to your room."

Jack flustered, hardly knowing how to process this even more surprising information. "M-my room, Your-um, Glen?" he repeated. "You mean for me to stay here, i-in the castle?" That wasn't an option, not at all. Jack Vessalius was a whore, not a thief! He could not accept this job, simply because he stole this necklace from a corpse!

_Ah. A corpse. Jetrose thieves...die in these situations_.

"You have the same reaction as my guards," Glen noted in what seemed to be amusement. Gloved hands began to gather the pieces of paper and parchment and carefully place them back inside the book. "Yes, I need you to stay here, for my convenience. Anything you need will be provided to you. Oh, and do try not to steal anything - I am a practitioner of magick, so I will know."

Jack's mouth was going dry. "No, Glen, this is a-," he started before there was a jangling sound and a rather large red velvet pouch was dropped onto the table. The blond could see the king staring at him expectantly.

"What's this?"

Glen took the puch and placed it on top of the false book, picking it up and offering it out to Jack. "My upfront pay for you. There's more once you complete your mission and find Pandora's Box," promised the dark-haired man.

Oh. Jack's verdant eyes fell onto the pouch that could easily fit his own inside. With his pouch full he was able to barely get by, but that... _You're being tempted, don't forget that this is out of your league, Jack_!

_Pandora's Box is nothing but a myth. King Glen...I am sure he sincerely believes it's real, but Princess Lacie couldn't possibly have been snatched up by some fairytale, this...this "Abyss_"! countered Jack, beginning to frown. Once Glen realized that, surely this would all end. Surely. _And hopefully I'll get to keep my head_. Glen Baskerville wasn't known to execute anyone, but Jack was sure he wasn't above it were he deceived by a whore.

"Glen, why do you think I can do this?" asked Jack slowly.

Seeming confused by the question, Glen glanced down at Jack's collar again. With one hand he reached out and tapped the silver symbol hanging from his neck. "Because of that. My men have been seeking someone with such a mark for a long time. Whether or not you were capable...if you could...just try... I believe that'll be enough. A thief of Jetrose will surely be able to gather more information than I ever could."

Expression calm yet nevertheless holding so much earnest, Glen held the book and pouch out to the blond. "Please, I need your help. Will you help me?"

"I..." Jack closed his eyes, not daring himself to look and take in the reality that he was taking the objects from Glen's hand. "I will do my best for you...Your Majesty." When he opened his eyes again, hands trembling slightly with an unfamiliar weight in his hands, Glen was smiling softly at him.

"What is your name?"

"...Jack," the blond said, gazing down at the crimson cover of the false book, the equally red velvet pouch on top of it. Information and wealth beyond anything he could comprehend - yet it was in the hands of a whore.

"Just Jack..."


	5. Diabolical Streak

**A/N: **Hiya! It's been a while, hasn't it? Well, now that my first year of college has ended, and that summer is here, I shall do my best to bring updates more often! -bows profusely in apology- I'm trying to get the chapters steadily longer, but I wonder how long until that actually happens, haha. Geez, it took three chapters until one day ended, psh. What am I even rambling about. My only regret is that last chapter was so low quality, I tried to patch it up this time.

I'm not hyper, I swear, my mind is just jumping around with what it want to say.

This title comes from Jill Trancy's song by the same name~ (Is anyone even looking up these songs or am I entertaining myself. Haha, no I kid, do what you'd like.)

Please enjoy! -bows again-

_**4th Arrangement: Diabolical Streak**_

Only after buying her a frosted pastry at one of the stalls did Oz finally get Ada to stop crying. The second Jack had been out of their sight, her tearing up had started turning into sobs before she was all-out wailing in Oz's arms. He quickly got them out of the square before too much attention could be brought to them.

Oz settled her down behind one of the stalls, placing her on top of a wooden crate as Ada sat and ate her treat, hiccuping in between bites. He patted down her hair as she slowly calmed down. Fat tears were still falling from time to time, but on the whole, she seemed a lot better than before, even when the flowers painted on her face were smeared. When she was about halfway done eating, Ada swallowed and looked at Oz with wide, watery eyes. "I want Jack," she said in a trembling voice. "Is he gonna come back?"

"He'll come back soon," reassured Oz hastily, putting on a bright smile for her. "It was probably just a bit of a mix-up, nothing more."

"But why did they take him?"

Oz's expression softened and he said, "Finish up your pastry before it gets cold." Ada wordlessly did as she was told, taking small bites and looking down with a deep frown. As she did, Oz thought about it himself - why would their brother be taken by palace guards so abruptly? The only thing remotely close to a crime Jack had against him was prostitution, but then all of Incuse would have to be taken down with him if that were the case. Oz considered more, but kept coming up empty, and unless Jack did something that the younger blond didn't know about, there should be no reason for Jack to have any business in the palace. _Will he really come back...? _

He felt like sighing. _This makes things...difficult, to say the least, huh_?

A firm tightness gripped Oz's throat as his chest constricted. Quickly, he covered his mouth as violent coughs tore from his throat, making him double over. Ada called his name and Oz waved a dismissive hand. "Fine," he said in a clenched voice before coughing again, feeling something bile up into his mouth. When the coughs finally stopped shaking his body, he pulled back his hand and found his palm flecked in red.

"Oz, did you take your medicine?" asked Ada worriedly, not noticing the blood.

He wiped his hand on the back of his black shorts, licking his lips for any stray droplets. "I did," he replied in a raw voice. "It just might take a sec to kick in, don't worry." He flashed another smile, albeit weaker than before. Actually, he medicine hadn't been working at all lately, no matter how much he took. He managed to have these fits when Jack wasn't around, although it wasn't like his older brother was in the house that often in the first place. He didn't tell Jack about how his medicine was having no affect, for fear that he'd have to go to the doctor's again and be supplied with a more expensive remedy. Jack had other things to worry about already.

So did Oz.

To get Ada's as well as his own mind off the subject, he looked off back at the square, where people were beginning to gather closer to the castle. It was getting darker and everyone was getting ready for the fireworks show that was the finale of the festival. The fireworks would be a good enough distraction for his little sister. And, if he was lucky, maybe not just Ada's attention would be fully captured...

"Hmm..."

"Hmm?" echoed Ada in question, frosting all over her lips.

Oz wiped off the mess and picked her up. "The fireworks show is about to start, Ada. Why don't we leave now so that we can have a good view, okay?" he offered.

"But Jack..."

"Don't you believe me, Ada?" Oz said. The expression on his faced turned mischievous. When his sister only tilted her head in question, he looked pointedly beyond the crowd toward the glowing-red castle. "I told you, right? We're going to be seeing Jack real soon."

* * *

Jack was escorted through various hallways and up several staircases, each sight and floor no less grand than the last. The bright red of the carpet seemed to glisten in gold sparkles from the sunlight outside, and every large, expensive painting was freshly dusted. He and his escort passed a pair of polished wooden doors larger than the others in the hallway.

"That's the library," his escort explained, still walking. Jack hastened to catch up. "His Majesty has given you to utilize it as you see fit for your research if you need it." Somehow, Jack doubted that the royal library could be of any use to him when he suspected Glen must've poured through all its contents himself for a chance to find information that could help him save Princess Lacie. Jack didn't give the doors another look and instead wordlessly stepped inside a room at the end of the hallway.

It was no doubt one of the more modest rooms in the castle, but it was still larger and more decorated than his home. Another door across the room was opened and seemed to led to a rather spacious bathroom. There was a large canopy bed at one side, with a bookshelf sitting opposite it. On either side of the bed were slender windows, already open to let in the cool evening air. Jack stepped toward one, gazing out to the setting sun and the view he had of one of the castle towers.

"King Glen...really means for me to stay here?"

"If His Majesty wishes it...then none of us can object," his escort relented. After a pause, he added, "If you require anything, you may call upon the servants at duty. At present, our King is going to be busy the remainder of the night due to the festival."

The hint that Glen would no longer have any time for Jack was glaringly obvious, and the blond nodded in understanding. His escort began to leave, holding the knob to close the door before Jack laughed nervously. "Ahaha... What's this? You want me to stay here and miss all the fun?"

His escort shifted his eyes. "We'd prefer to have you in our sights. You understand," he said hastily before promptly shutting the door.

And Jack was left painfully alone in a very large and very strange place far away from the usual familiarity of his home. Far away from Oz and Ada, too. Jack shivered, rubbing his arms as he loosely hugged himself. He made his way to one of the windows, trying not to touch anything in the room because it didn't feel right. The glimpse of outside comforted him a bit, and even though the window was skinny enough that he could really only stick his head out, he leaned sideways so as to feel the breeze out. It was like he was suffocating, and with the breath of fresh air, he was slowly able to calm himself.

_You're going to get executed for this, you whore_.

Or maybe not.

Jack closed his eyes tightly. _It'll be fine. It'll be fine_. All he had to do...was just not be found out. He just had to act the part, just like he did with roleplaying.

_This isn't sex, Jack! You're posing as a member of an infamous band of thieves! Gods, no one is even going to have their pants removed. This is serious_! But the fact of the matter was that he already agreed. Even if he could turn back, he could only remember the excitement the guards had, and the relief and hope in Glen's eyes when they gazed at the pendant around his neck. They had been searching for gods knew how long for a Jetrose thief, for Glen to find someone with the abilities to bring Princess Lacie back.

Such hope was something Jack couldn't bear tear away. That burden would be heavier than this.

The book was still in his other hand, the bag of gold in his pocket. Jack had his own reasons for agreeing to this. If he remembered that, maybe he'd have the perseverance to see this through. It went without saying this pouch alone was beyond riches he'd ever seen in a single setting. And with this amount of money, he and his siblings would be set for years - the rest of their lives, even! There'd be no need for Oz to strain his already weak health by trying to work, and Ada would finally be able to attend school, and Jack...

He blinked, only briefly entertaining the notion of no longer having to be a prostitute before replacing it with the present situation: fooling a king who was also a very skilled practitioner of magick. He was surprised the necklace was the only proof needed to admit him into the castle and get him this...bizarre job.

Jack's eyes glanced down below, where beyond the castle gates more and more townspeople were beginning to gather, their sounds of merriment traveling up to even Jack's ears. He heaved a heavy sigh, running through the non-existent possibilities of how he'd even _start_ this job. It was quite clear Glen turned the royal library upside-down, and would have gone through the obvious surface-research about Abyss and Pandora's Box. Jack was obviously expected to be able to dig deeper.

"How the bloody hell does he expect me to...unravel _fairytales_?" he hissed under his breath.

Well, now he was starting to feel sick, so he tore away from the window and turned to his bed. The size alone was more than what Jack was used to, and, setting the book beside him, he very slowly sank down into its cloudlike softness, staring up at the ceiling. There was nothing stiff or slim about this bed, and with the busy day past, Jack felt he could fall asleep right then. But this bed, this room, this mere _privilege _to be staying in the castle... If he was going to be here, so should Oz and Ada, he guiltily thought. He may have left them all his money, but who knew how long that would last, especially when Jack wasn't sure how long he'd be stuck here.

Leaving them also was a definite no.

_I'm sure Glen would understand if I requested for them to stay as well_, he mused, turning to his side. _If he ever questioned it, I'm sure I could make up a story or two. How much could possibly be known about Jetrose anyhow that I could get caught in my lie_? There was, of course, the aforethought of added danger that his siblings could get punished as well, but Jack was confident that he could protect them. King Glen wasn't cold-hearted enough to do away with children that had nothing to do with Jack's lie.

_It's decided then. I'll ask Glen tomorrow if I can get Oz and Ada. Besides, in some ways, Oz is more clever than I, and maybe he'll be able to help me out with this._ With that determined decision in mind, Jack felt tomorrow couldn't come sooner. But now that he had a reason to want to live until tomorrow, he now had time to go over various regrets that led up to this point - that was, primarily, why had he decided to listen to Oz and put on the necklace. Or maybe it was when he took the necklace from the dead Jetrose thief in the first place.

_I wonder what a member of Jetrose was doing here in Sablier in the first place_, he thought mildly, turning to his side. _Moreover...I wonder how he got killed_... Jack swallowed.

Before he knew it, night shrouded the room. For nearly an hour he had done little more than just stare blankly at the wall, not wanting to move. That was before something caught his ear, a high, whistle-like sound from outside. He shot up from the bed, and the next instant his room was softly illuminated in red light, a loud popping boom following.

Oh, the fireworks. Had he been so lost in nothingness he even noticed? Before the fireworks would start, Glen would announce himself and make a small speech in commemoration of the event. It was always nearly the same, just changing slightly according to the years that had passed. Jack had heard it enough times, but never really let the words sink in before. Although every time he heard it, there would be that unmistakable pain tinged in Glen's voice... A kind of pain Jack couldn't imagine ever possessing.

In another brilliant flowering of light, the room glowed red once more. They flew off one by one, bursting high above even the castle, for any hope that Princess Lacie's equally red eyes would be able to gaze upon them, and return home.

_If she was really taken by this...Abyss though_, Jack thought, looking out his window,_ then why does Glen do this? Why? Would a man with that kind of desperation even continue this sort of act_? Jack felt sorry for him. That kind of mourning couldn't be natural.

_Fweeeeeeee! Boom_!

Mourning, hmm. Princess Lacie could also already be dead, too. Eighteen years was a very long time for death to happen. So either Glen was a desperate man in denial - or he really was foolish enough to cling to hope.

Jack was not above or below hoping. He just didn't know what it was like to have that much faith. Now he felt ill-suited for this job in a much different way.

"_Whether or not you were capable...if you could...just try... I believe that'll be enough_." Jack's expression slowly became less distressed and more unsure.

For the next few minutes, the fireworks went off. Much smaller ones were shot as well, but their colors barely spilled into his walls, consumed by the redness of the larger ones who's explosions echoed in his chest. Somewhere in between the fireworks, he must have closed his eyes and finally fell asleep, still fully clothed and without any idea of how he was going to survive the future.

* * *

_Well, luckily he wasn't the one turning the wheels of his fate_.

* * *

He wasn't woken up by his own volition the next morning.

Jack gasped at the same time a hand stopped shaking his shoulder. He must've been having some sort of nightmare, because the next second, he had grabbed the wrist of that hand and swung the intruder down to the hard ground, very much alert. When his victim yelled out in surprise and pain, Jack realized with a start this was not the face of anyone he knew - and neither was he in his home or in Incuse.

No one in either location usually wielded a sword.

Two castle guards were in the room. One was still pinned to the floor thanks to Jack still gripping his wrist, and it was a man about twice the blond's size as well. The other pressed the edge of his - no, _her_ - sword against the side of Jack's neck, right against his pulse. She had pink hair pinned back in a bun, her lips twisted in unabashed disgust. Both she and Jack had wide, wild looks in their eyes, but the blond felt himself slowly calm down when she ordered, "Drop him or its your head, Jetrose thief."

Immediately, Jack did as he was told. "I'm sorry," he apologized, helping the other man up. "You just startled me."

"Well, it wasn't exactly expected for you to be sleeping," muttered the injured guard, taking raging steps away from the blond. When Jack took a closer look at his face, he saw a large tattoo going from one side of the man's forehead to his chin.

"What's the hour?" asked Jack in surprise, glancing outside. The sun was already spilling in quite warmly in the room. Had he slept in? He hadn't done such a thing in years.

"It's half an hour until ten," informed the female guard, tucking her sword away in its slender sheath. "King Glen ordered us to come fetch you. We expected you to be up and about by now, but I suppose we should've known better than to think a thief went at everyone else's pace."

_Such venom in her voice_, thought Jack mildly. Certainly a far cry from the woman he usually dealt with. She was like the old woman at the orphanage that took care of Oz and Ada from time to time. Slowly, he swung his legs over the bed and took in the guards. Ignoring her comment, he asked, "What does the King need me for?"

"He requests that you join him for breakfast, which is being held in one of the dining halls downstairs," replied the tattooed guard plainly.

One_ of the dining halls - for what purpose are castles so large_, thought Jack dryly. "Alright, um... And that is, who are you two?" The female was new, but he vaguely recalled the tattooed man from yesterday.

The disgusted expression on the young woman's face seemed to deepen as she crossed her arms and looked away. "I...I won't question His Majesty's judgment in letting you stay here... His word is absolute... Which is why I can't disagree with him over this as well," she began sternly.

_Are you telling me that or yourself_? Jack raised a brow, but then managed to smile. "Beg your pardon?"

"Charlotte and I were assigned by King Glen to be your personal guards. Wherever you go, so shall we," explained the tattooed man. "I'm Fang, by the way."

Jack offered a nod. "Charmed," he said politely.

"We didn't come here to talk!" protested Charlotte with a firm stomp of her foot. "There's plenty of time to do that being stuck with you. Just hurry up and get ready! Here's some clothes prepared for you." She took a folded bundle off the dresser and all but tossed them at Jack. "We'll be waiting outside the door, so don't try anything fishy!"

"Don't you think if I wanted to try something suspicious, I would've done it last night, my lady?" asked Jack with his usual charming smile. When she flushed but made a haughty sound, and Fang gave Jack a look, he suddenly realized. "Unless I was being watched last night anyhow."

Without answering, Fang pointed to the clothes. "His Majesty expects us down in twenty minutes. Do hurry, as it wouldn't be prudent to keep him waiting," he advised before turning to walk out the door. Very shortly after, Charlotte followed, giving Jack a glare before closing the door.

_What a charming pair_, thought Jack, slowly turning to the clothes in his arms. Either it was just Charlotte's personality, or no one was going to have problems showing their dislike of having a Jetrose thief inside the castle. He wanted to opt for the former - only a zero-tolerance woman like that could have a chance in becoming a guard of the castle, especially one King Glen trusted enough to assign to him.

_They'll be relieved to know I won't be hard to handle_. He almost laughed, but instead wordlessly changed into his new attire. The clothes fit him well enough, and he put his feet back inside his own boots. He redid his braid as neatly as he could, and idly wondered if he could ask for a brush in this place. He put the fake book inside the bottom drawer of his dresser, transferring the money pouch into it as well before placing his folded old clothes right on top of it. When he was finally ready, he stepped outside, looking on either side of him where Charlotte and Fang were standing.

"Finally!" cried Charlotte. "Come on, come on, we mustn't keep His Majesty waiting!" Without further delay, she already began marching off down the hallway. Fang only gave Jack a helpless look then gestured for the blond to go first before they started walking.

The castle had a slightly different atmosphere than the previous evening. Morning brought a strange sense of peace that Jack gratefully took in after the stress of yesterday. They didn't even come across anyone until actually reaching their destination, and a few other guards were walking around. Jack willed himself to keep his head high though, and followed Charlotte straight into the room.

The room was a lot larger than the one he'd been in yesterday, with the ceiling much higher and plenty of empty room around. Five long, slender tables were set parallel from each other, with the largest and longest one in the middle. Jack didn't know what all the other tables were for, especially considering the fact there was food only set upon the middle table. And sitting right at the head of it was the King.

"Your Majesty!" Charlotte was quick to announce them as they approached. Jack just barely caught the flustered expression on her face as she made a quick and hard bow. She straightened up again so erectly it was like the previous bow had been impossible for her. "We've brought the, um... It's..."

"Jack," supplied Glen with a nod. "Yes. Thank you, Charlotte, Fang." Casting his amethyst eyes to the blond, he held out his hand to the open chair to his right. "Have a seat, please."

_He's as cool as ever_, Jack thought, silently taking his seat. When he tried to scoot his seat forward however, a sharp shriek sounded from the wood scraping and he flushed in embarrassment.

"Idiot," Charlotte muttered under her breath.

Quickly clearing his throat, Jack bowed his head. "Good morning to you, sire," he said quietly. A maid came by and began to pile some food onto his plate, a lot more than he ever had in a single meal before. The eggs, ham, toasted bread, fruits, and cups of water and juice were certainly a change from the quick bread and cheese he was accustomed to. He stealthily shoved a piece of ham and a sip of juice into his mouth to quiet down his growling stomach.

Glen, who had been waiting, began his meal as well. Cutting in his sunny-side up eggs, he asked, "I hope you found the room to your liking?"

With those piercing eyes on him, Jack could only respond with a small blush, "Yes, thank you."

"I was wondering if you had a place with which to start investigating," confessed Glen after a slow bite. At Jack's surprised stare, he added, "My apologies if I come off as pushy - I won't always linger over you while you work. Of course, I'd still like periodic updates on your progress, no matter how small."

_If I_ ever _make progress_..., though Jack blandly, chewing considerably slower now. He truly didn't know the first place to start learning about Abyss. All he really knew was what Glen told him about it, and even then it was something general. If there was something specific he wanted to know about Abyss, he was certain that those torn-out pages could reveal a lot more than he ever could research. The unfortunate thing though, was that Jack had no idea how to decipher any of those languages. It'd take some linguistics expert to be able to make out any of it, and that was way out of field for Jack's profession. So his only chance was to find someone who fit that description, and Jack didn't know anyone who...

He blinked in sudden clarity. Oh yes... Yes, of course! _That man_ could very possibly help him! He didn't know for sure if that man would really help, but it was a better start than nowhere at all!

The sudden inspiration must've shown on his face. "Jack," addressed Glen, a bit insistently.

"Yes!" Jack sat up straighter.

"How are your plans to start this investigation? I trust I need not remind you of its importance."

"Of course," the blond replied, calming down slightly. He lightly bit the inside of his cheek, putting down his fork. "That is, I was wondering if Your Majesty would permit me a request." Glen blinked in surprise, and behind Jack, Charlotte stirred in undeniable angry shock. Still, he continued, "I realize it may be insolent of me to ask something of you so early, but it truly would help me, and therefore, help you."

Glen glanced to the side as he thought, visibly weighing the possibilities that Jack would betray him. Finally, he answered, "Alright. I will hear your request."

Shifting his eyes down to stare at his plate, Jack added quietly, "Actually, I've two requests."

Charlotte hissed, but Glen still gave the blond a patient and compliant look. "You may continue."

"My requests both have to do with being able to leave the castle. Please be patient and hear me out the whole way through," said Jack, raising his head up again and meeting Glen's gaze head-on. If he was going to make two such huge requests, he had to be confident about it - many things that would determine the future depended on it. "I must first visit a man, a well-educated scholar that I'm on familiar terms with. I believe he can help me get started. He's a well-read man who has no doubt come across a multitude of languages." He let that sit in the air for Glen to connect the dots as to what he was speaking of.

With a short nod, Glen said, "I understand. I grant you permission to visit this scholar. Charlotte and Fang will, of course, accompany you."

"Thank you, sire."

"And your second request?"

Knowing this would be a step down, Jack still kept his expression composed and strong when he asked, "Would Your Majesty allow me to bring two individuals back to the castle with me?" Before anyone could object, he quickly went on, "They are my younger siblings. They accompany me wherever I go. When your guards took me yesterday, I was torn apart from them in the middle of the square. I should like to bring them back with me."

The silence that Charlotte had been trying to keep finally broke. Incredulously, she cried, "Does the royal castle deceive you to be a common inn? You cannot bring outsiders inside all willy-nilly! Don't mistake your position here, you're still a lowly thief!"

"Charlotte," Fang said firmly.

Jack was looking only at Glen, whose expression remained impassive during her outburst, even as his eyes bore onto her with that same ruthlessness they always did. She must've noticed the stare then however, when she let out a shocked gasp and, more quietly, said, "M-m-my apologies, Your Majesty. I spoke out of turn."

"It's fine. Please do not do it again." Glen leaned forward then, arms resting on the table as his eyes narrowed the slightest bit in consideration. "Although, Jack, your guard brings up an excellent point. I consider myself a generous man, but I'm permitted to ask why they cannot remain where they are. I'd be more than willing to send a messenger reassuring your safety if that is your main concern."

"It's certainly one, but not my biggest concern," Jack explained carefully. "I should like to bring them here to be with me. They're only children, and not prone to do anything deviant." _Well, perhaps Oz, but best not to admit that_...

"And Jetrose permits you to have them with you...?" asked Glen slowly. Apparently the thought of a thief having any familial ties seemed far-fetched. Jack supposed he couldn't blame him. But as long as he was the only person in the room trusted to know the most about Jetrose, he was going to use it to his full advantage.

He nodded. "It doesn't matter to them what we do, so long as we accomplish our tasks, and report back when it's necessary. That is," he stayed calm as he weaved up a lie, "as long as they don't become a hindrance to me - or rather, Jetrose - then it's fine."

"So they know of your occupation?" questioned Fang behind him in surprise, speaking out to him for the first time since they came in.

"Ah, no." Jack cursed himself for almost making a slip-up. "So if you would, keep this job a secret from them." Why wasn't there some theater troupe around to compliment this fine acting? Even though his heart was beating so furiously, he kept his face as similarly calm as Glen's. Turning to the raven-haired man, he prompted, "So may I bring them here? Of course, my main purpose for going out is to meet up with the man I told you about - my siblings will be a detour on the way."

Glen nodded, raising a hand to him for peace. "You needn't explain yourself that thoroughly. You may of course bring your siblings here to be with you, so put your mind at rest." He turned his attention back to his breakfast, and for a second all seemed to be well. As Jack tentatively went back to eating as well, he heard Glen murmur something softly. Maybe Jack wasn't meant to have heard it, but unmistakable were the words of lament Glen whispered:

"_I of all people should know better than to keep siblings apart_."

* * *

**Ending A/N: **And so another chapter is finally brought to a close. It took this long to set up the base, so let's try to see some action next time, yes? OuO And I wonder if anyone has any guesses to this mystery man Jack refers to? (It's someone I haven't included in any of my Pandora Hearts fanfics, and I feel extremely bad for it, since I do like him, as minor a character as he is -sobs-)

I promise there won't be a huge gap between my updates - at least for the next one -sweats nervously- I'm so sorry, haha. I hope this chapter was able to tide you over for the time being - bows- I'd love it if you dropped a comment!


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